


A Hero In My Eyes

by Heronymus



Category: Firefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-10
Updated: 2004-12-10
Packaged: 2019-04-29 07:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronymus/pseuds/Heronymus
Summary: Sometimes, heroism is about a point of view.





	A Hero In My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** It started as a piece about Zoe. But Wash.he's like kudzu, really.

  
Author's notes: It started as a piece about Zoe. But Wash.he's like kudzu, really.  


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A Hero In My Eyes

## A Hero In My Eyes

He doesn't see the hero in the mirror. 

Blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin, dark stubble. Such a beautiful face, once the mustache was gone. He doesn't see it in the mirror, though. We've even talked about it, once, in the dark deep of the night. 

"I'll always see myself at twelve years old, all elbows and neck...sure, I can see well enough to shave, but really, all I can see is me at twelve." 

I've seen images of him at twelve, and he's right; Wash as a kid was ugly as an ostrich. But when he smiles at me...there's parts of me he can touch with that smile that I didn't think were still a part of me, after the war. I've grappled with no few men off and on, but Wash...he warms me. 

I cast a mean shadow. I know. It's why Mal and I teamed up at the beginning, why Mal leaned on me as his right arm in the war, why Mal was the hand, and I was the fist. It was just...easier, really, to be hard. Three sisters and two brothers and as many cousins as can be counted and all that family on a big bulk freighter drifting through the big dark, a body's gotta find a way to differentiate themselves. Only way to know--when your own face looks at you from everyone else's head--that you're your own person is to find a role to play. Mine was the enforcer. Worked security track on the ship, then joined up when the war started. Soldier was a good way to be different from all the rest, and besides, a chance to set foot in the world for more than a couple of days at a time...how does a body resist? 

It took me exactly three days to get sick of it, and decide to quit. It took Mal three minutes to talk me out of it. Made me mad, made me hard, made me out to be the bad guy in a situation with one of our cadet class. Used me. Saw me for who, and what, I was, and used me...but he'd never use me up, that I knew. If it came down to me and him, he'd go first, and I knew it, and he knew it, and so I'd follow into death if need be. And that was the way of it, all through basic, onto our assignment, into the war, and through all the stuff before Serenity Valley. Mal was the voice of reason. I was the hammer of vengance. 

After Serenity Valley...well, there is no after Serenity Valley. There's just...since. 

It was an easy thought, going back to the old life, the old roles. It was easy thought, hard going. Finding out the ship was gone, the family was scattered to the tradeways...that was hard going. Making way as best as can, moving from job to job, from ship to ship, from world to world, always looking for my own face in the crowd. And then, out of nowhere, Mal WAVEs, more alive than I'd seen since that moment when the bombs rained down, because he knows I've got a history with ships, and because he was my sergeant, and I was his strong right hand. 

And then, Serenity. Because there's no after Serenity. There's just since. 

And then there's a pilot, all strut and swagger and loud shirts and mustache. And I don't like him right away, because beneath that ugly shirt and that terrible mustache is a man who sees right into me. Not at me, not the pretty face or the nice body but into me. And sees right past the facade of steel and right down into the soft places that I thought were dead and buried long ago and far away. I see through the swagger right away, and it makes me wonder if people see through me the same way. 

But no, it's just him. And in truth, while the swagger's an act, the piloting...aint. He's not the best I've ever seen...but he's better than most, and that's what counts. He makes Serenity, an old '03 Firefly that wallows like a _fei zhu_ for most pilots, he makes her sit up and dance. He jokes about a lover's touch, about being not so good, but he's got the hands, and the head, for flying. And a head for figures, too. Not just good behind the stick, he's got the head for navigating, which momma always said was worth more than the trick of driving the boat. He sees the whole picture in his head, lays out courses for fun, picks out destinations in the black by eye and dead-reckoning and by feel and then checks them through the navcomp just to be sure. He's what my daddy called once a "belt-and-suspenders" type. _Xiao xin_. 

I take too many risks. I'll follow Mal into Hell; done it already, even, and come out the other side, maybe. I see the prize. Wash, he sees the path. He's a good navigator for it, but he thinks it makes him timid sometimes. He sees me and sees himself next to me and he doesn't see the hero he is. He sees the fool I am, and thinks he's a coward for not being foolish right with me. He doesn't see that I need him to be safe, so I know a part of me will always be safe. I might die, any day, though I'm a mite more careful about always wearing my armor, thanks to him. I might die any day, following Mal on one of his hare-brained schemes. But as long as Wash is safe, a little part of me will always be OK. 

I see the prize; Wash sees the path. And for all the fighting, we make a good team. 

He doesn't see the hero in the mirror, but I try to show him the hero in my eyes.

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Title:   **A Hero In My Eyes**   
Author:   **Heronymus**   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **G**  |  **gen**  |  **4k**  |  **12/10/04**   
Characters:  Malcolm, Zoe, Wash   
Summary:  Sometimes, heroism is about a point of view.   
Notes:  It started as a piece about Zoe. But Wash.he's like kudzu, really.   
  



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